


Pen Pals

by Elamae



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: First Time, Letters, M/M, Pen Pals, Post Arcadia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:21:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elamae/pseuds/Elamae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Jakes leaves for America but then Endeavour start receiving letters from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic inspired by the end of series 3 epsisode 2 Arcadia where we see Sgt Peter Jakes leave the show for a new life in America. I'm not really happy with the character leaving. Purely selfish reasons because I love the character, love the way he's been developed over the past 2 series and was really looking forward to seeing more post Neverland. I do wish the character well and if he were going to leave then I'd much prefer the way he did to anything darker or even more permanent *shudders*. However, as an Jakes/Endeavour slasher I need to keep them together in my works. 
> 
> This was partly inspired by sparkeythehamster who wrote a lovely piece also set post Arcadia and was an idea that percolated in my brain over night a couple of days ago and wouldn't leave. I'm posting chapter one in an attempt to keep my muses flowing.

The first letter arrived barely three weeks after Jakes had left. 

It dropped onto the mat by Morse's front unceremoniously one Thursday morning. For reasons, unknown even to Morse, it stayed in his pocket all day Thursday and all day Friday, until the night time when he sat, glass of scotch in one hand and the letter in the other. 

He'd known who it from. The postmark would have given it away, even if the familiar writing hadn't. He'd seen that hand too many times over the past year to not recognise it. 

Taking a sip from his glass he put it down and slid a finger under the flap.

_Dear Morse,  
First things first, I should say I have no idea why I'm writing this letter._

Morse shook his head slightly, a slight twitch to his mouth.

_I've been here less than a week. It's beautiful. You would not believe the space. Seriously. I think I'm going to get agoraphobia. Country, sky, for as far as the eye can see. Roads you could spend days travelling along and still not get anywhere. And yet here I am penning you.  
How is Oxford? Still ticking along I guess. World goes on, right. It's raining there, yes?_

Morse cocked an ear to the outside and sure enough, the faint sound of the pitter patter of rain could just be heard on the window.

_Dry as a bone out here. That's another thing to get used to. Used to be I was always wiping rain water out of my eyes. Now it's dust I'm scraping out. At least water doesn't try to take half your eyeball with it._

It carried on that way for a couple of pages. Pleasant, witty, full of Jakes audible presence but on paper instead. He asked after Thursday, Joanie and the rest of the Thursday clan, even Bright and Strange. The last paragraph though, made Morse pause, fingers rising to his face to rest on his mouth absently. 

_I came out here for a new start. And that's what I've got. With buckets on. But I've caught myself thinking back and wondering if it was so bad. Whether there might have been another option. Another path. Ah well. They say you must lie in the bed you made and although I've not been one for old wives tales_

Sayings, Morse correctly mentally.

_I do agree with that one. You make a decision and you stick to it. Otherwise you'd never get anything done, right?_

_Peter_


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morse gets another letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit boring this chapter but...
> 
> And not read very carefully so extra apols for any horrid mistakes.

Chapter Two

The next letter came only a few days later. If Morse had been surprised to see the first one on his mat, coming down the following Monday and seeing another familiar envelope staring back up at him, had shocked him even further. 

This time it had only taken him until the lunchtime to open it. Canteen sandwich in one hand, he perched on one of the walls outside the station and unfolded the white paper. 

Dear Morse,  
Well, okay, here's a second letter. Still no idea why I'm writing to you instead of my other friends. 

Something in Morse's throat stuck at the word 'friend'. Was that what they been?

No idea why I'm writing full stop. Unless I'm clinging to some resonance of home, who knows. It's definitely been one hell of a culture shock coming over here. You see stuff in books or on the big screen about the US but it doesn't prepare you for the real thing.   
I'll get the polite bit out of the way first and hope that everyone is doing okay. Missing me I hope. A bit?  
We've moved into Hope's parent's ranch at last. There was a bit of an issue which I won't go into. Anyway they own a massive property. They've got cows, horses, sheep, the works. I got lost last week just walking back from one of the barns. Slightly embarrassing!

Morse sniggered, enjoying the image of a confused, probably sweaty - it was hot out in Texas wasn't it? - Jakes, most likely in a cowboy hat, that flittered across his mind's eye.

Have they replaced my job yet? 

Morse found his smile dropping into a frown. They had just replaced the vacant Sergeant's job that past week. A new sergeant had transferred up from the Met. Morse had been worried yet hopefully about the new addition to their team. It would have been nice to have someone from the station who was working their way up the ranks but unfortunately there was nobody who was in the right position at the right time. So it had been opened up. Sergeant Jenkins, a married man looking for a change and looking to more north had been accepted.

Within five minutes, Morse had realised that he and Jenkins were quite different people. Within an hour, that they'd probably never see quite eye to eye. Within a day that their approach to most things in life was quite worlds apart. It had taken about two days for the actual dislike to kick in and by the time the weekend had rolled around, grinding his teeth had become an almost daily habit.

Morse prided himself on being open minded, friendly and giving most people the benefit of the doubt (it didn't always come easily but he tried) but something about the other man grated on him. He had to remind himself that Jakes had done the same in the early days. They'd not exactly seen eye to eye but underneath all that, when it came down to the actual police work Jakes had been a good copper. Even when he was scowling at him, he'd accepted that. 

Jenkins, well, Morse couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Hope it's someone who keeps you on you toes. Think you lot got soft on me.

Morse snorted. 

Think I've gone soft though being around you lot. I've been using muscles I didn't even know I've got. Hope's brother have got me on working on the house and around the ranch. They haven't got me out with the animals yet. I think they think I might get trampled.

Morse though about Jakes skinny form and snorted again. It wasn't a fear without foundation. 

I'm not sure whether I'm going to find a job or whether I'll just work here with the family. 

Morse looked at the writing here. The pen seemed to change, something about the writing, the pressure altered. 

I haven't made up my mind yet and I have to talk to Hope about it. I want to investigate working with the local Sheriff's department but I know that's a long way off. I haven't even gone through Citizenship yet. I know I don't have your brain, but I miss, well, working things out. It's kind of hard to switch off.

Morse folded up the letter and carefully placed it back in his pocket. There was a bit more at the end but it was mostly just more pleasantry. A few jokes, bit more about the weather and the difference in food, shops and other daily bits of life. 

He glanced over at the station, down at his watch and standing up made to head back inside. 

There was writing paper in his desk draw he thought absently as he stepped over the threshold.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been re-watching Inspector Morse. All episodes except the Remorseful Day (can't bring myself to watch that one yet), all 6 seasons of Lewis that I have on DVD and then onto the first season of Endeavour (I have the second also but need to buy 3 and 4 - sometime. Soon. Probably sometime soon). As a result of about a month's binge watching in the Morse universe my brain finally gave up and started poking into the unfinished fic I have. 
> 
> I don't promise there'll be much but I'll keep going as much as I can. I forgot how much I adore these boys.
> 
> Not beta'd, apologies for any grammatical errors.

Chapter Three

When the third letter came, Morse was a page into his reply. He'd started it after he'd returned to his desk that afternoon. Grabbing a few sheaf's of paper from his desk drawer, he'd started one over a cup of tea in a quiet moment between typing up reports. Jenkins even more of a heckler about typing reports than Jakes had been. 

Head down, he'd jotted a few paragraphs down, mostly which he was unhappy about and which he mostly scratched out and he'd not go much further than draft three when a third letter had arrived. Recognising it, he'd retrieved it from the mat in front of the door and ripped into it almost immediately, sinking down into the chair next to the window, one elbow resting on the table. He turned into the morning sun starting to blare it's way through the glass, letting the light illuminate the paper, his eyes falling to the familiar neat but somehow slightly more uneven script.

_Dear Morse,  
I might be a bit drunk so I doubt I'll post this letter. Hope I don't anyway._

Morse's eyebrows rose. Well, that would explain the wobbly writing he thought. Intrigued by the fact that the letter had indeed been posted he read on. 

_I should explain where I am in case you're wondering why my writing looks like a five year old. I'm sat up on the roof of one of the barns. It's nice and private and no one comes up here but me. I don't think anyone else knows about it or if they do, maybe they're polite enough to let me have it. It's late afternoon but the sun is still bright and I've brought a torch up with me anyway. Warm though, I've no danger of freezing up here. Even at night the temperature doesn't really drop much below what we'd call positively sunny back home._

__

__

_Their drink is not a patch on ours either. You'd hate it over here. No real ale and what they do have is light, lager or some such. I can picture your face now._

Morse scowled and then realised how appropriate that observation was and grinned. The grin dropped when he read the next sentence. 

_I think I've made a mistake._

Finger's came up to press against his mouth as he took in the words. 

_I think - there was a small space where the pen had left the paper, ink pooling in a slight blob where it had been pressed for too long - maybe I shouldn't have come here._

Morse bit his lip, hand running through his curls. He flipped the letter over to see how long it was before returning back to those two now glaring sentences. 

_God, I can't believe I've written that down. I've thought it for a while now but I've not been able to actually say it out loud. There it is though. And to you. Sorry. I know you don't do well with emotions._

Morse felt a frisson of annoyance for a moment before mentally shrugging with the truth of Jakes assertion. He didn't always understand or deal well with emotional situations, not really understanding a lot of what people got worked up about. Well, he understood it, he just didn't always like it.

_I'm not really sure what I feel right now. Lonely? Adrift? Lost? I've never really been lonely before. I know it must have seemed like I was surrounded by friends back in Oxford, but you might be surprised to find out that I was pretty used to spending time on my own. Growing up, well lets just say I learned early on not to rely on anyone else but myself. Alone but not lonely. Here, I'm surrounded by people and yet I'm the most lonely I've ever been._

Morse frowned.

_You're probably scowling at me right now_ (Morse blinked), _if you're even bothering to read this. Made my bed and I should lie in it right? My choice, my mistake, probably think I'm being a cry baby or a wimp. Such a big change from there to here right? Bound to be a culture shock. Bound to be difficult. I knew it would be but._

__

__

_Before we came over, I'd only knew Hope for three months. I feel like I'm living with a stranger. I thought. Actually, I don't know what I thought. Maybe I wasn't thinking. Maybe that's the problem._

__

__

_Hope's supposed to be five months gone but, I caught her buying women's products last week. I asked her why and she said she was stocking up for after the birth but who thinks about that nearly four months in advance? I'm a police man Morse. I was a policeman and she seemed caught. I don't think I believed her._

Morse bit his lip, hand migrating to rub across his whole mouth.

_We haven't been intimate since we got here (see I must be drunk if I'm writing stuff like that to you) and I know women show at different rates, I've had enough experience through work and friends to know that but Hope's as skinny as you are. The last few days she's been trying to instigate something, trying to make love, but I can't. I can't explain but I just can't._

The writing finished there. Morse flipped the paper and saw that it continued fresh on the reverse. The writing was clearer and neater, back to it's normal careful script and as he started to read he realised that Jakes must have started again at a later point. 

_So I asked about working at the local Sheriff's department. It's possible but it's going to be a long time before I'm doing anything more than making them tea, or coffee as they drink here._

__

__

_I'm still helping out on the ranch which keeps me occupied. It's good manual labour but I feel like my brain is going stagnant. You're going to fall over in shock here but I've started visiting the local library in the nearest town (by nearest I mean about 20 miles away) and I'm nearly all the way through their section on real crime. History and politics is next._

Morse did indeed grin, a vision of Jakes with his nose in a book bringing a smile to his face. 

The next few paragraphs were polite enquiries about Thursday, De Bryn, Strange and the others, about work and the cases they were working on. Other ruminations about Oxford, weather and the general polite noises one makes in letters. Nothing more about the contents of the first half of the letter. 

Nothing more about why the letter, so obviously from the first few sentences, not meant to be sent, had made it into the post. Had Jakes forgotten what he'd written? Unlikely given it was just on the other side of the paper. Or had he made the decision to purposely ignore it. Needing to send it now it was written but unable to acknowledge it directly. 

Morse sat forward, letter still in hand, elbows resting on his knees, mind going over what he had just read and trying to work out how it made him feel. Catching sight of the clock on the shelf he swore under his breath and standing swiftly, he grabbed his jacket and quickly shoved the letter into his pocket. Grabbing his keys and coat he drained the last cold dregs of his tea and headed out to the station.


End file.
